Quidditch
by Miss.gonnastabyou
Summary: A soon to be collection of quidditch fics. Mostly set in the World Cup league. These arent really meant to make much sense, im just letting the characters in my head free. Chap 3: MINI CHAP WHILE I WORK ON THE NEXT ONE! Australia team stats
1. France vs England

A/N: I love quidditch, so from now there will be a load of quidditch related fics. Because Cait and I were playing it on the playstation, and I was all – sigh. I wish *I* could fly on a broom and do all those mad-arse-fully-sick tricks.  
If only.  
Do you know how racist that game is? (Probably not so I will just explain for the benefit of you all) The Australian team all have big feet, the English team all have crazy hair dos, the French team are all like fairies, the Bulgarians are all buff dudes, and the Japanese karate chop all over the place!

ANYWAY, dedicated to the left hemisphere of Mia's brain.

* * *

In Toulouse was France's national quidditch stadium. Breath taking, gorgeous, home to France's amazing gardens, and the venue for the France v. England match of round eight of the World Cup.

Eight high stone towers built in the style of a 16th century castle, surrounding a spiraling design of gardens ,green, purple, blue, and in the centre, a wide shallow pool, reflecting the midday sun like a mirror. And that's exactly what the garden was: The Mirror Gardens. Les Jardins du Miroir. For most of the year it was a peaceful place, situated a pleasant walk away from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic.

But from Vittoria Mallarde's point of view, it was chaos.

The stone towers were a full writhing mass of quidditch fans, as were the lower stands. Full of colour from waving banners or team scarves. And noise, the cheers, the screams of encouragement. The Gardens had been changed special for today, half of the flowers patterned to resemble the English Emblem, and the other the French. The air above the Gardens was a blur as players from both teams darted around on their brooms, attempting to confuse each other, but in an organized pattern. It was an organized, practiced chaos.

She'd been playing quidditch her whole life, for as long as she could remember, but the actual scale of it all was new to Vittoria. This wasn't tossing an old quaffle around with your friends back at Hogwarts, this was worldwide, and this was famous. Even though this was her fifth match with the French national team, she had still gotten edgy and nervous beforehand.

Not even two years out of Hogwarts, Vittoria was like a quidditch protégé, youngest on the team, the first one to be zoned in on by the press. She'd liked it at first, all that attention, but it was hard to keep up with the others. Every day she told herself, at any moment, they could decide she wasn't good enough and drop her. Quidditch was her life, without this, she was nothing. Desperate to please, every match Vittoria played her best.

She'd been born in France, but grew up in Scotland, so it was unnerving today to be playing against the champions she had looked up to and called her heroes all through her Hogwarts years. The move back to France had brought back unpleasant memories, and Vittoria found that those distractions were causing her to loose her edge. She couldn't afford that, not when this was her life.

She was the smallest of her team, ideal size for a seeker, except her ruthless tackles and knack for strategy placed her as a chaser. Her build was at once a curse and a blessing. Oppositions saw her tiny frame and delicate looking hands, and underestimated her, but at the same time, she caught a lot of bruises as the beaters mistook her for a seeker. Her teammates had nicknamed her Guêpe, which meant 'wasp'.

Round eight then. Both teams were quite evenly matched, they had similar aged players and similar gear. The French beaters had chosen to wear a spiked pad on their right knees, and the English beaters were wearing helmets. The English were riding the original Firebolt model, but the French had adapted theirs, a flowery metal pattern encasing the brusels at the back, seemily to match their silver and blue clothes, but it actually added the weight needed to pull off their Team Move.

The English weren't as fast as the Bulgarians, but their keeper was a lot better. It was a battle to even get it down to the rings, then another one entirely to find a hole in his defense. The French were using a quick-pass tactic. Keep the ball moving, and they won't have a chance to stop it. It was risky, they had less control over where it went once it was in the air, and no way to pull it back if the English intercepted. Well, that had been the plan, but the English didn't try to dart in close to snatch the quaffle, as the French beaters were watching for. They just swept down the pitch in a line, pushing the French out of the way, and getting in the way of the quick passing. They didn't try to intercept, they just knew that if they were THERE in the middle of the pass, then the French weren't going to take the chance that they might get possession.

Vittoria's own part in the plan was to be the one to retrieve the quaffle, get it in French possession, so that the two other chasers, intimidating Ackhart and wild Jeanne, could score.  
Acrobatics was very much a part of quidditch, and Vittoria was having to put her training to use more than usual, because the English chasers just hunched over the quaffle, so she had to twist around them and snatch it, without letting her broom get too close to theirs, and without letting them get a hold of her, while also being on the look out for a bludger attack, and keeping track of the other chasers. Simple, not so much.

And England was slowly gaining a larger and larger lead.

Vittoria could win this game, and have a set future, or she could ruin it by accident, and start a long line of failures. She needed this win.

* * *

Louise Aleine; seeker for the French for the last five years. She'd played so many matches, she couldn't count which one this was. But it didn't matter, because she was going to win, and be the best, just like always.

She'd sighted the snitch first, of course, and was racing the English seeker, straining for the snitch, dodging other players.

She willed her broom to push faster, reached further despite the screaming pain in her arm. The crows cheering slowed to a dull roar, and the world around her blurred, twisting out of shape.

But shining before her in the sunlight, its wings desperately trying to escape her clutches, the snitch was clear and strong in her vision. The gardens were close below her, but she was hardly aware of the colour flying under her, she was too intent on her prize.

She could hear its wings buzzing, even with the wind whipping across her face, could feel its hum inside her. This was her moment. Nothing would break it this time. No stupid little girl to accidentally switch brooms, no missing gloves, none of it.

All of a sudden, colour fell across her vision, and her outstretched hand faltered in surprise, just before she could have closed her fist around the snitch. A few seconds after the colour, she was nearly thrown off her broom, as a body crashed into her.

The world and noise assaulted her as she came out of that moment, and her concentration was lost. Everything was bright and moving and loud….and painful.

"Oof!" She gasped as the air was crushed out of her lungs, her shoulder pads had stopped the pain for the most part, but her ribs were on fire, which was_ not_ good. Not _now_.

Whatever it was that crashed, it had slowed her down heaps, and she had been going _fast_. It was amazing that her broom hadn't snapped on impact.

Louise shook her head and blinked away the spots of colour, trying to get in control of her broom, which had gone haywire. Below her, the English chaser was rolling on the grass, holding his knee and groaning in agony.

What on earth were the odds of him falling just as she was under him ABOUT TO CATCH THE SNITCH?

Louise' head snapped up, as her gaze darted across the pitch, searching…

There. The English seeker as gaining on the snitch, his little greasy face stuffed with excitement, he thought she was a goner. She had lost a lot of distance but the snitch was swerving back in her direction.

Damn that chaser. She would _not_ lose this. With a final glance of disgust at the fallen player, she sped off once more.

She needed this, she needed this win. Everyone had been forgetting she existed lately, just forgetting who had won the cup for them in that final. They were all gaga over that young new player, not remembering who had been their favourite seeker a few weeks ago. But that would change; she would show HER how to play quidditch. Compared to Louise's knowledge and skill, that girl wasn't even out of the cradle!

Infuriated, with who she didn't even know anymore, Louise came alongside the opposition seeker, and lashed out at him. Her foot caught him in the un-padded kidney, and he choked off and slowed down, giving Louise the opening she needed. With one final lunge, she threw herself forward….

And caught it.  
She'd done it! THAT'D teach little I'm-such-a-quidditch-genius. But the cheering of the crowd sounded wrong. Something was wrong. Looking at the score board, her mouth gaped open. It was supposed to be her MOMENT!

FRANCE: 210  
ENGLAND: 210

* * *

A/N: well, if that made no sense to you, puck you miss! I had those characters stuck in my brain, and now they're let free. Vittoria was supposed to come across as a girl desperate for achieving and acceptance, and Louise as a power-hungry attention whore.

I LOVE QUIDDITCH!


	2. Australia

A/N: Ks I needa say, that I don't come up with the names for the teams arrite? They're all mentioned by Rowling at some point. Some of the character's names are too; I'm just expanding on their personalities.  
Dedicated to Kate, who's left for Madagascar! WE'LL MISS HER SO MUCH!

* * *

The Australians were insanely proud of their Quidditch, it was ridiculous.  
The country was a late starter into the Quidditch world; it was only introduced in the 18th century, whereas in Britain it started in the 12th, although not as we know it today.

Australia's climate and territory would make anyone think it was odd to play sport in. The middle of the outback, scorching temperatures, dusty winds, hardly any vegetation, and no water. But these were exactly the reasons why it was so great.

It was perfect for the Wizarding world; it was far away from muggles, who wouldn't venture out in the harsh climate. Spells made everything a whole lot easier for the wizards at those out-back stadiums. Thirsty? Conjure a drink!

Also, the weather made for tough players. The Australians fought back; they might start out nice and friendly at the beginning of the game, but if you bump them, they'll bump you right back!

The two most well known teams for Australia were also known world-wide as one of the most violent rivalries. Thundelarra Thunderers v. Wollongong Warriors.

There were players carried off on stretchers almost every game and the players kept changing because of long term injuries. It was rumored that there were another ten players in the reserve team, because it was so unpredictable.

Often in the World Cup, the Australian team were wild and performed flamboyant and spectacular moves. But this was different. This was an age old rivalry between the top two inter-Australia League, The Thundelarra Thunderers and the Wollongong Warriors. It was rough and to the point. People would respond to a crazy claim by saying - "Yeah right, and I'll go ref the next Warriors v. Thunderers game!"

They weren't as violent as Transylvania or as showy as Canada, but there were many fouls as well as frequent oohs and ahhs from the crowd. Jim Frazier, chaser for the Thunderers, was fouled the most, followed by their beater Georgia Williamson. Mitchell Taylor, chaser for the Warriors, had been given a warning for flying low over the crowd, singing his team anthem.

The day's weather conditions were almost perfect. It was sunny, but there was a refreshing cool breeze floating through the huge stadium. It was built partly into the ground, so that it would be cooler; it was made of the sandy red orange rock of the Australian outback. There were giant sheets above, hiding the sun to keep the pitch shady. Because of the red walls and red floor, the uniforms and banners and things stood out. Yellow for Thunderers, green for Warrior's.

At first it seemed like it would only be a quick match. In the first two minutes, the Warriors had to replace there Keeper after he was knocked out against one of the hoops. Then the Thunderers beater Gee fell off her broom after a bludger to the face…and got up again. The snitch was sighted in the first fifteen minutes, but it was lost when there was a collision – Thunderers keeper and the ref. Danny Cane had to be replaced.

It was go go go, violent, and quick.

The Warriors were ahead by thirty, but they were all pretty much evenly matched. All players were becoming more and more desperate as they kept scoring one each, as if they were taking turns, but particularly the Thunderers were picking up more fouls that usual. The crowd loved it. For most of them, the rough players were the reason they were there.

The Warriors were rewarded _anoth_er free when Georgia, called Gee, was fouled for straight out whacking their beater on the head with her bat, no disguises, and no denials. After that, and a lecture from her coach, Gee decided that they should at least _try_ to do it by the book for a while. She signaled her partner Deborah Edwards, known as Dee to her team mates.

The beaters Dee and Gee were known, mostly in the southern hemisphere, as a couple of the soon to be best beaters the world has seen. It was rumored that the official Australian team were planning to recruit them as soon as Aly retired. Gee was the eldest in her team, had been playing professionally the longest, and yet she seemed to be the one who always had the most fun.

Gee's signal was for a Dopplebeater Defense move. Gee rolled her broom, spinning length ways four times before coming to a practiced and precise stop, right in front of the bludger which had paused for not even a second, raising her bat even as she spun. Cackling, she slammed it with her bat, taking a rough guess of its direction.

Dee re-adjusted her sweaty grip on her bat, and perched, tense, ready to hit, as a bludger came straight at her. She swung, and before her bat had even made contact with the ball her eyes were moving to the Chaser she was aiming at.

Both bludgers flew towards the unsuspecting chaser, who was too confident to even look behind themselves to check for danger – this was obviously a new addition to their team. Dee flew faster than hers, overtaking it, and hovered above the chaser, watching its path, in case it went astray.

The two balls hit their target exactly, one on each side, on the unprotected and unpadded area under the arms. With a yell, the chaser dropped the quaffle to clutch their sides, and Elibazeth Jordan, Thunderers chaser, came straight up from near the ground to catch it.

She huddled over it so that it would be harder to extract, and continued upwards, intending to drop it to her fellow chaser who was supposed to be directly below her in a Porskoff Ploy. But when she looked down, her eyes widened, and she muttered to herself in panic.

"Ok ok, rule one for chasers, never loose sight of your team members, they are you're safety line. Oh god I've-"

Ellie was bashed into by a rival chaser, her mistake being to flinch when he made as if to punch her in the face. But his fist didn't connect with her cheek; the chaser pulled it up short, and took the opportunity to wrench the quaffle from her grasp. The Transylvanian Tackle.

"Frick!" She swore, and she turned right, knowing that he would go around her left and come up behind her, he was known for it. She continued straight, she was flying slightly above and to the left of him, when she halted her broom abruptly. She turned, and faced the chaser who was flying at her too fast to slow down. Growling, she lunged at him, her feet flicking forward to shoot her broom forward as she leapt off it entirely.

Missing him, she landed safely back on her broom - she'd jumped over him as it had flown under. But the chaser was grinning and he laughed as he flew away.

Wayne Taylor, Ellie's fellow chaser, sped past her, and she heard him mutter, "Cocky bastard." He didn't say it in anger, Wayne was as cool as a cucumber - He said it like it was fact.

Wayne sped after his brother. Seeing who was behind him, Mitchell snorted and slowed down suddenly. But Wayne saw it coming and came up beside him.

"Wayne, Wayne, go away, come again when you can play and WIIIN! – which will be NEVER!!!" Mitchell sang, swerving as the Thunderers third chaser, Frazier, came up on his other side. If he didn't move he would be sandwiched, so he tried going up or down, while searching for someone to pass to, but they kept the pace perfectly.

The volume of the crowds cheers went up a notch as the seekers suddenly sighted the snitch. Wayne took advantage of Mitchell's distraction - he was checking to see if his own seeker was doing ok - and elbowed him in the kidney, taking the quaffle back. He tossed it to Jim, who jumped up and kicked the ball on to Ellie.

Ellie held the quaffle under her arm, and then she leaned back, until her broom was vertical, then lifted her broom to the side, he feet coming off, and as she fell, hit the quaffle with the end of her broom as if it was a bludger and she was the beater. She slid back on her broom and curved away before she hit the dirt ground. The cheers were deafening.

The skill level of both of the seekers in comparison was embarrassingly obvious. Thunderers seeker, Martin Byrne, was almost immediately way out ahead of the Warrior's. He looked so relaxed, many many people were jealous of his apparent effortless ease with flying. Marty acted as if he already had the snitch, you could tell from the look on his face that he thought _he_ was in charge here, the Warrior's seeker would catch it if _he_ wanted him too, the game would continue until _he_ said. Because once the snitch was caught, that was it. As a seeker he had to be able to choose the right moment.

Marty was lounging across his broom, flying at a terrifying speed, but not even seeming to notice, and Wayne scowled at him as he passed, and Marty smirked. That old man was just jealous.

Even though there was only a few years difference between the two men, their personalities were so different – Marty's cocky and daring, Wayne's serious and tactual, it really was as if Wayne was telling his grandson Marty off.

Ellie signaled him, and he straddled his broom properly. Snitch catching time was a go. He leaned forward and peered through his goggles. He usually only needed them in the rain or snow, but there was a dustiness in the air, that wouldn't help his chances. He could still catch the snitch in any conditions of course.

His vision zeroed in on the tiny golden orb, and he forgot about the other players and the other seeker desperately trying to keep up with him. He was gaining, slowly, so slowly. Then the snitch turned, and circled the goal rings, making Marty loose distance so he could turn properly. He cursed himself for not looking ahead so he could be prepared, every little error could add up. Being a seeker required absolute precision.

The snitch went high, then swooped down low, and Marty took his chance. He put all his weight into gaining as it flew down, then, as the angle evened out, he held tightly onto the handle, and lifted one foot on. Then the other, so that he was crouching on his broom, like it was a skateboard. The Snitch was at head height for him.

He reached out…he could hear the other seeker behind him cursing already…reached out a little further….he could feel his broom veering of course slightly….reached….. Marty plucked it from the air, a smug look spreading across his face as the crowd went ballistic.

A whistle sounded, the game was over, and the Thunderers did a celebratory circuit around the stadium, Marty executing extravagant bows to his screaming fans. Yellow banners were being waved like mad.

This wasn't the end of the inter-Australia league, but the Thunderrala Thunderers were one more step closer to their goal. And they had beaten the Warriors. Again. That was a victory itself.

Yellow coloured fireworks were going off, even though it was the middle of the day, as they all landed on the ground, to shake hands with the Chairman of the Australian Quidditch Society (AUSQS), and receive their trophy.

A/N: oh my gawdyness everybody scream – these are the first fics ive done that aren't parodies! WHAT IS THE WORLD COMING TO?


	3. Auzzie Team

A/N: So I'm putting this up so you can be happy while I work on the next proper chapter. I would post it how I've got it now, but it needs to be perfect!  
In my imagination, Australia as a quidditch team symbolize Australia's insane need to party. We don't really celebrate Halloween – it's just an excuse to get shitfaced. We don't have one SINGLE recognized religion, so all the religious holidays are the same thing. *sigh* I love that about this country :D

DEDICATION: Ellen and Kate W. and Marcus and Mia .... my fanfic buddies ! XD LOVE YOU GUYS! Oh and Kate and Lauren and Cait and whoever ELSE i've forgotten.

* * *

All Australian teams are known for their speed and showmanship.  
They act flamboyant, perform crazy moves.

**Thundelarra Thunderers  
**Danny, Gee, Dee, Ellie, Jim, Wayne, Marty (Katty, Michael)

Beater 1:  
Georgia (Gee) Williamson  
29 years old – oldest in team  
5' 5'', white blonde hair that's only a couple of inches long and spiky. Dark brown eyes, stocky stature, definitely not delicate.  
She cackles madly when her bludger hits score home, grins like a wolf, she's intimidating to others regardless of her height. She's rough with her broomstick, dragging it around to go in the other direction. She bites her fingernails so they're broken and haggard. She gets fouled at least once every match.

Beater 2:  
Deborah (Dee) Edwards  
27 years old  
Tall like a model, except she's muscled. Black hair pulled back into a tight bun. Brown eyes.  
Because she has such long legs, she looks awkward on her broomstick, but that's a mistake to assume that she can't control it because of that. Where her partner Gee is loud and rowdy, she's the strong silent type. But just because she doesn't _want_ to talk, doesn't mean that she can't fight like hell on the pitch.

Chaser 1:  
Elibazeth (Ellie) Jordan. [Its eliBAzeth _NOT_ eliZAbeth, got it?]  
23 years old  
Average height, average looking. Strawberry blonde with grey eyes.  
Shrieks a lot, she's very loud, and when her and Gee are together it's like a bomb going off. She yells when they score, as well as when the opposition score. She commentates the game to herself, under her breath as she's playing - "Ok ok ok, Frazier with the ball, back pass and….I got the ball, I swerve, I shoot!"

Chaser 2:  
Wayne Taylor  
27 years old  
Bald, with hazel eyes.  
Wayne's brother is on the rival team, which irritates him like hell.  
Businesslike, only ever uses moves that are okayed by the quidditch organization. He has never been fouled. His brother is wreakless, like Gee, they're opposites.  
He's cool, calm, collected, assesses the situation, good with tactics.

Chaser 3: (and also reserve seeker)  
Jim Frazier  
28 years old  
Aboriginal, he has pierced ears in multiple places, wears rings (which can pack quite a punch) and has a nose stud.  
He loves speed, and is always experimenting with his broom to make it go faster, which is _technically _illegal. Has a great tackle. His father used to be a beater, and now commentates, but only the New Zealand v. Australia games. He swears a lot.

Seeker:  
Martin (Marty/Tin Tin) Byrne  
25 years old – youngest in the team  
Curly brown hair and blue eyes, he's a womanizer. Tall as well as tanned.  
Catches the snitch with crafty show off moves. He's cocky, but his ego is justified, because he is a great quidditch player.

Keeper:  
Daniel (Danny) Cane  
Dreadlocked hair.

(Reserve) Chaser:  
Kathleen (Katty) O'Regan  
30 years old, has twin babies (1yr)  
Black hair, green eyes.  
The original team loves her; she's dedicated to the game, as well as being the best mother she can be.

(Reserve) Chaser/Keeper:  
Michael Mandic  
Original team doesn't like him. He's too stuck up, but not in the same way Marty is. Marty just thinks he's awesome; Michael thinks he's better than them. He's sour about only being on the reserve team, and once tried to bribe Wayne so he could take his place.


End file.
